


2ee you 2oon

by trickstersGambit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus, F/M, Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pale romance from beyond the grave, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstersGambit/pseuds/trickstersGambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words on a screen guide her through the rough times to the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2ee you 2oon

A prophecy had been written once, speaking of the end of the world, and of course, just as written, everything had come to pass in the exact order described, so far. How could it not? The most reliable of psychics had written the word in his own, very quirky handwriting.  
Handwriting that had been so familiar to her for so long, for it was the handwriting of the person whom she pittied most, above all others, who's hand stayed hers when she was shaking in anger, soothed her when she was rife with frustration, sought hers when it was shaking, or in pain, or experiencing any number of emotions. Yes, the writing had been made by the claw of her very own sweet Moirail.  
The very troll who had appeared to her as a scuffed up mutant grub, lususless, given to a culler to be monitored and raised. That very same grub raised technology within her ancient empire to new heights while he was at her side, and inspired others long after all that was left of him was a memory and words on parchment, or, in his later years, well timed programs that hovered on her tablet working in the background, waiting.  
As it just so happened the words "Angelfii2h, look out your wiindow, your Heiire22 ha2 arriived." had appeared on her screen while she was reading a recently proposed law she was going to show to her students as yet another in a long series of tests she posed to the girls she raised and groomed to one day potentially take over for her.  
Fire had rained from the sky, that night-- Oh of course she KNEW it wasn't fire, but a meteor, but it was so much more poetic, so very ROMANTIC to say that it had been fire-- water had risen from the impact in a thick, almost plume like form that she'd been able to see from her rooms at the palace.  
"Go to iit, you're needed."  
The tablet was abandoned, and, following the advice of her now long passed Moirail, Feferi Peixes, Her Imperial Ataractic, left her block that night, clipping his gold cape over her shoulders for strength as bare feet quietly pressed a path through the inner workings of the sprawling capitol building, her white gown caught up in a hand, the other clutching the trident the instructions that had followed had said she would require.  
Her warm moirail was never wrong, in all the time she'd known of him. He couldn't be wrong from beyond the pyre.  
Guards were passed with an almost flippant 'as you were', as though it was meerly a walk about the palace for exercise, not a rescue mission from the stars. A secret path shared between only the closest of friends was accessed with the most practiced hands, and palace grounds and walls gave way to soft sand and cool water.  
It felt wrong, tonight. Warmer than it should, in the cool seasons. The work of the sky rock, of course. It filtered into her gills and mouth tasting of the tang that came from metals and minerals, leeched off by salt seas. The deeper she went the thicker it got, and she knew she was close.  
Ropes of hair twisted out behind her as she dove deeper than she had in sweeps, seeking out what she knew was in need of her assistance.  
Bubbles of both heat and trapped air came off the rock as it began to fill her sight, and the empress pressed forward faster, a desire to accomplish this task filling her with anxiety and worry, twisting her tight as she emptied air from bladders to sink faster, move deeper, go further.  
Her hand reached for the foreign stone, only for the limb to be met with a searing pain; She could almost hear the reprimand of youth in the back of her mind.  
the mass was wedged aganst what she knew to be a cave, anything alive within would be cooked, and fast, if she didn't act.  
Using everything she had she pressed the tips of the two-by-three-dent to the base of it, biting back a growl as she levered it away, freeing several more hardy fish and the carcass of a grub they seemed to be too wary to eat.  
'You're needed.'  
She could save it!  
she hooked the trident under her arm, curling the injured one to her chest, reaching out with the whole limb to carefully lift the youngling from the alcove.  
The magics that'd been her friends since her own grubhood were called up, forcing life back into the tiny creature.  
Frustration furrowed her brow and she clung to the words in her mind. 'Heiress'. HER Heiress. Not 'An', as so many others had been. No. This grub would be the last. Hers. Her own descendant and the end to so many sweeps as ruler, as empress, watching loved ones pass before her eyes.  
A future lost if the youngling was, that night. Tears filled her ducts, bubbling away into the ocean as she tried to impress the need to survive into the child.  
Finally the little fuschia thing began to writhe with energy and renewed life, moving independent of her, drawing a relieved laugh from the ancient ruler.  
Her Heiress was alive.  
Her rest was coming in just a few more sweeps.  
She sat on the edge of the cave and wept in joy, reveling in the existence of this tiniest of tiny trollings. She'd seen so many before but this one, this sweet youngling, who would be the jewel in her crown, was perhaps the smallest of them all--It made sense, her companions towered over her to this day and it was often wondered how she managed to wrangle them all into a coherent empire.  
"My sweetfins, my little Meena)(" She whispered, fluttering fins at the excitable ball of pudge and hair, cooing to her as their life began together; Empress and Heiress.  
Over the sweeps other messages from the pyre came.  
"A 2torm ii2 brewiing, leave your door unlocked." had been cryptic, but wound up meaning Meenah had needed her, storming in under the pretenses of wanting to check to make sure the Empress wasn't scared. That day a storm had blown out three palace windows, surprising everyone.  
"Don't forbiid her exodu2 two the ciity" was followed shortly by the wriggler she identified as Sollux' own Descendant trotted in after her little Gill, hand in hand with a teal blooded girl, both toting skateboards, dirty from the day.  
"Help her; 2econd corriidor thiird door beyond the bu2t of troll mozart." became a piercing party where Feferi taught her heiress about piercing safety and helped her put in the first brow ring.  
"That boy wiill hurt her badly." Found the Empress chasing off a sutor with a trident held aloft, glowing grey with magic.  
A night spent discussing the importance of a ruler and her responsibilities as an heiress turned into a shouting match, followed by the princess storming out of the palace to locations unknown, an irreparable rift torn deep between the two of them.  
"You have two let her go, FF, even iif iit break2 your pu2her."  
Obeying those words was the hardest thing she'd had to do since she'd let Him die, finally, and watched the spark leave his eyes from the circle of her very arms. She listened, of course, only sending word that the gill would be welcomed home whenever she wanted to return.  
Short sweeps passed with no return from the rebellious youth. Soon more meteors fell, rending her city, leaving words unspoken between Empress and Heiress. She would never know if time would pass  
"2ee you 2oon, Angelfii2h." crossed her tablet, with a photograph of a shit eating blue-and-red eyed grin filled with too many teeth replacing her old background: a picture of Sollux and her crowded together on her throne so very long ago.  
Hands shook once more as she picked it up, bracing herself for an end she wouldn't be able to recover from. The end she'd waited for since he'd passed, that she'd dreaded since Meenah arrived.  
Soon enough, Beforus, and it's ancient empress, passed, fuffilling the final words of the psionic prophet that empress had adored: "Beforu2 2hall pa22, tiime wiill move, 2triife wiill fiill theiir day2 two no end. Theiir game wiill 2cratch and an Alternate wiill begiin; Plea2e, ju2t once let me be wrong..."

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on a drawing which I'll link when it's done, and this crawled into my head, desiring my attendance. I should be working on Will You Be Striders, I know; I should be doing a lot of things. Please accept this as my placation, for now, and know I'm working on the other projects in the mean time. I don't mean to put them off for so long.


End file.
